


Regret and Illness

by Rasiaa



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Mute Dean Winchester, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 02:09:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13377888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rasiaa/pseuds/Rasiaa
Summary: He contemplated telling Dean to stop. But then he decided not to. He knew they needed the money.





	Regret and Illness

**Author's Note:**

> I think I'll do more with this someday. I love the concept.

He realized it when he glanced over and accidentally saw that Dean hadn't closed the door all the way.

There were black and purple and yellow mottled bruises all down his thighs, in the shape of handprints.

Dean caught him looking. Panic enveloped his face, all wide eyes and pale skin that only made the injuries look worse. He slammed the door and the shower turned on.

Sam let out a little whine, eye welling up with tears. Sam was a crier, and even at nine years old, he seemed to rely on Dean's constant presence and reassurances. John reached for him absently, automatically, his mind still on Dean and whirling with impossible ideas.

Sam flinched away from him, scrambling to the bathroom door and hammering hard on it until Dean let him in. "Sam-" John started, knowing that it wasn't okay for boys their age to be locked in a bathroom while one was in the shower. But the door shut in his face, and he heard the click of the lock.

"Sam!" he called, but there was no answer.

He scowled, heading over to the table and the whiskey. He paused halfway there, peeking into Dean's duffle when something caught his eye.

A diamond necklace on a gold chain. He pulled it out, and noticed the note that was attached, along with a wad of hundred dollar bills.

_Dean-_  
I thought you might like this, pretty thing like you. Thanks for the good time, and if you're ever in town again, give me a call, yeah? We'll have some more fun together.  
-Jay 

Heart hammering, he dropped the necklace and the money back into Dean's bag. He felt cold all over, horror and disgust welling within him.

But mostly, he felt like a failure.

Dean was thirteen years old. There should be no reason for those bruises, no reason for that pretty trinket, that note, that money.

Mary would be ashamed of him.

The shower turned off. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Sam leave the bathroom, tear streaks on his cheeks, but he was thankfully dry otherwise. "Sammy?" he called, making sure his voice was soft and non-threatening. Sam glanced over, confusion marring his features.

"Dad?" he asked.

"Come here," John requested, and with one more look toward the bathroom, Sam did as he was told. He still stopped just barely out of reach, though, and John had to wonder when Sam adopted that sort of behavior. He gestured for Sam to come closer, reaching his hand out.

Sam looked like he would rather be anywhere else, but he came forward, he allowed John to tug him close. John took a deep breath, burying his face in Sam's soft hair. It was unfamiliar. He searched for a memory of when he had hugged Sam last, but the last he could recall was just before Sam started walking. His youngest had walked toward Dean, and resentment had overcome him, blinded him. That had been the last time.

He released the boy and Sam backed up, eyes wide and calculating. The bathroom door opened again and Sam dismissed John entirely, rushing to Dean's side. Dean laughed, grinning as Sam nestled himself into his side.

Dean looked at John, and John stared right back.

_Everything okay?_ John signed for Dean, trying to remember when he had last used sign language to accommodate the fact that Dean hadn't spoken a word in nine years. He usually just read whatever Dean was trying to tell him.

Dean's eyes widened, shock playing across his face. John felt another pang of guilt. Dean nodded.

Sam tugged on the edge of Dean's pajama shirt, and Dean looked away. "Can we have pizza?" Sam asked, seemingly forgetting about John entirely.

Dean's eyes flicked up to John, who plastered a smile on his face that felt fake, and he nodded. "We can," John told Sam, who whipped around. Sam beamed at him, but made no other move to acknowledge him.

Instead, Sam tugged on Dean's shirt again, his other hand pointing toward the bed. Dean laughed again and moved to the bed as per his little brother's request. He sat up near the headboard, leaning back on it as he swung his legs up. Dean held his arms open and Sam launched himself into them, shrieking with laughter.

John watched from the sidelines, still kneeling, unable to reach his boys the way a father should.

His oldest son a mute prostitute at thirteen, and his youngest so disconnected from him that he was instinctually wary of any attention from his father.

He wondered how they communicated when John was on a hunt, if Dean spoke for Sam. It wouldn't surprise him.

Sam was messing with the TV remote, snuggled into Dean's side while Dean's fingers combed through his hair.

John stood and they glanced over, and while Sam managed to dismissed him quickly enough, Dean stared at him. "I'll place the order," John said. "What do you want?"

_Veggie for Sam. I'll take whatever_ , Dean signed. He turned back to the television.

He should've known that.

He picked up the landline and dialed the local pizza place, looking at the number on the menu of the motel. He placed the order quietly, ordering dessert and soda for the boys without them hearing, as a treat. It was more pricey than he would have preferred, and he almost canceled, but then, in his pacing, he caught sight of them on the bed, riveted to the television. He looked at Dean and saw those bruises in his mind's eye, and then he saw Sam and his too-thin wrists and his wariness.

He agreed to the outrageous sum of money and vowed to get to the local bar later to hustle some pool. He told himself that he would limit himself to just enough alcohol to convince the patrons that he was drunk and no more. He hung up the phone.

"Pizza's on the way, boys," he announced.

"Thank you!" Sam chimed, and Dean, of course, said nothing. He didn't even look at him. There was a tightness to his jaw, and his grip on Sam was tight enough that Sam started squirming. "Dee?"

Dean released him immediately.

Sam gave his bother a long, weighted look that made John wonder at his son's perceptiveness. Sam apparently shrugged it off, however, and curled back into Dean's hold.

John sat on the other bed, directing his attention to whatever it was they were watching. It was some cartoon, and a later commercial revealed it to be Tom and Jerry. He grinned to himself in amusement, and made no move to change the channel as he usually would.

There was a knock on the door some time later, and John stood, heading over. He paid the man quickly and brought the boxes in along with the 2 liter bottle of cola. Sam glanced over and his eyes widened. "Dee! Dad bought pizza _and_ soda!"

Sam shot off the bed like a rocket, and Dean let out a grunt as one of Sam's feet connected with his ribcage. Dean shook his head and followed.

John let them choose, and while Sam took the pizza he was offered immediately, Dean hesitated, like there was some kind of catch.

No doubt he figured he would be paying for the pizza later and resented him for it, just a little.

John couldn't even blame him.

_I'll hustle pool tonight_ , John signed after catching his son's attention. _And tomorrow, we head out again. How's that sound?_

Dean bit at his lip for a moment before he nodded and took the paper plate with pepperoni pizza. He made the gesture for thanks and turned away, going back to Sam, who was settled on the bed.

John contemplated telling Dean to stop. And then he watched them again, the way they interacted and he knew he couldn't ask that of Dean. Not only would he be humiliated and angry, but he would keep doing it, and would probably go to more extreme lengths to get more money to prove himself capable.

And John knew they needed the money.

He looked at the shine of the necklace in Dean's bag and felt ill.

He honestly felt like he could be sick.

He swallowed the bile in his throat and ignored the food next to him.

He didn't say anything when Dean took the plates and threw them away, and he didn't say anything when he saw them curl up under the sheets together, too close to be healthy, too close to be normal. He said nothing as the light of the television cast shadows on the motel room, on their faces as they slept.

He didn't move when Sam cried out suddenly, his face twisted in a nightmare. Dean woke instantly. He ran his fingers over Sam's hair and his face, smoothing out the wrinkles all the while watching closely. It was like John wasn't even there.

Sam settled. Dean followed after several minutes, and John didn't move. He didn't get to sleep that night.


End file.
